The Dress
by kyle doesn't rock the dress
Summary: Kyle's scaly ex-boyfriend embarks on a lone mission to the Whispering Woods, where an old woman shows him new love. But mostly there's this dress.


Madame Razz saw everything that happened in the Whispering Woods, for as long as anyone else could remember. Mostly because berrypicking didn't leave a whole lot else to do but to peep around. And to wonder: do these spiritual woods crop up everywhere because forests attract magic, or because magic repels people? Or was it just Madame Razz who repelled people?

But that night, the Whispering Woods saw a few too many visitors. Razz had become a light sleeper in her latest years, what with all those Horde soldiers tearing apart her lands. Drawing just a little closer every day. One visitor she knew, but the other?

# # #

"Force Captain Catra has ducked away on a little midnight mission," Shadow Weaver said, "to the Whispering Woods." Her personal chamber looked like any building in the Fright Zone—would it have killed her to throw a shag carpet over the haphazard steel paneling? Swap the humming flourescents for a nice lamp? At least she'd drawn some leopard-print shades over the windows.

The dark witch gazed over her pedastal, at what looked to Rogelio like an opaque silver liquid.

"Pay attention!" she barked, shadows gripping at his legs.

Rogelio gulped.

"As I was saying, you are _unfortunately_ my last available soldier. Adora has defected—I assume Catra has gone looking for her again. And Lonnie's still in pieces."

"What about Kyle?" asked Rogelio, his voice raspy from not having talked throughout the entire first season.

Shadow Weaver brought her hands together. ". . . I need Kyle."

Rogelio heard a peep from behind.

And there stood Kyle—his Kyle—in the most gorgeous crimson gown he'd ever seen. His messy blonde mop looked dignified. He blushed, his shoulders hunched, and turned away.

"Kyle is doing some work for me," Shadow Weaver said.

Kyle tugged at the pearl necklace about his neck. "I-I'm modeling her dresses."

It was impossible to look away.

Rogelio was a slimy lizard man—it's okay. If he can say it, so can you. It wasn't unheard of for a scaly daddy and an adorable twink to run off together—but it certainly wasn't acceptable. Not that Rogelio and Kyle cared. But things were never the same after the night he learned Kyle was exclusively a top.

They both knew they should move on. At least, Kyle had moved on—he couldn't stop talking about that handsome Rebel archer they'd captured on their last mission. Kyle liked his shirt. His name was Bow. Rogelio was pretty dang sure the archer had given him a false name, but then again so do most guys on Grindr. Not that Rogelio used Grindr. Because he totally didn't. And anyway the archer's friends busted him out after busting five of Lonnie's ribs.

A freezing hand turned Rogelio's chin forward.

"Here are the keys to my skiff. You will _not_ return without Force Captain Catra."

# # #

Hours later, the ship landed before the Whispering Woods. Rogelio was tired, but he did not want to go to bed yet.

Shadow Weaver had given no instructions on Catra's whereabouts, and with no other vehicles in sight, he may have parked at the wrong entrance. This brought back a really cringy memory for Rogelio, of that time he couldn't figure out that his Uber driver was waiting at the other side of the stadium. And then he tripped and accidentally shouted a racial slur, right in front of his fifth-grade teacher. He uses Lyft now.

Nowhere to go but forward.

He tried clearing a branch with his electrified mace, but when the leaves began to smoke, he withdrew. He'd almost started a forest fire. Smoking is very bad for you, and the Horde had not yet invented steel blades.

So onward forth he tumbled over roots and hanging vines, his path lit only by the dim moons of Etheria and all the nondescript floating orbs of light one finds in magic woodland biomes. When at last he stopped, it seemed he'd merely wound up back where he began. He knew it must be sunrise then, but the sky was still as dark as the racial slurs he'd been trying to stop blurting out.

Rogelio was afraid—not because of the bugs. Slimy lizard people eat those, and he was a pretty chill dude anyway. What scared him was the thought that he might never find Captain Catra, and lose his only shot at impressing Kyle enough to convince him to try bottoming.

And then he heard a sound.

It was that old lady sound. You know, _that_ old lady sound? It was that one. Hundred percent.

Excitement overtook Rogelio's cold-blooded veins— _civilization! Direction!_ —and he ran through the bushes chasing into the endless night and—

It was love at first sight.

There was that old hag, in a tattered pink shroud and spectacles. Madame Razz—remember her? It's okay, most people don't. You forget things in the Whispering Woods. Your own name, your bearings, your credit card number. But Razz remembers all, including the three digits on the back.

Well anyway, you can forget about old Razz because it was her broom stealin' the show.

The broom was just as thin as Kyle, and just as stiff, and on the top . . . that familiar blonde mop. As Rogelio stepped into the clearing, the broom turned to him, floating upon the wind. The old woman also did those things but again, she's not that important right now.

One sustained glance says a thousand words.

They wanted each other. Now.

But Broom, Broom had been around this block. Broom had a hierarchy to filter these men through.

Rogelio held out his green lizardy arms, but Broom halted before them.

"If you wanna be my lover," Broom gestured a bristle toward Razz, "you gotta get with my friend."

In the Horde, you do as you're told. And a betrayed Rogelio had other orders he could change the subject to.

"No, I'm just here to look for someone." That's it. He didn't need Broom—not at that cost. He was a soldier on a mission. "Her name is Catra. She's a cat person."

Razz shook her head. "This whole furry thing is getting out of control. The First Ones would've banned y'all years ago. . . ."

Rage overcame Rogelio—to face such bigotry even in the forest? The Horde had come to destroy—and these fools deserved it! His claws tore through the flower beds, suffocated the nondescript orbs of floating light one finds in magic woodland biomes. Rogelio snapped and nothing could stop him until he crushed Broom's handle, creaking, splintering, its bristles flailing for a way out. And then it was Broom who snapped. In half.

Broom was dead. Broom and its thinness and its stiffness and that stupid adorable blonde mop that Rogelio didn't need and never needed.

And Razz did not interfere. Even through his anger and his hatred, she only spoke—words like _peace_ and _harmony—_ words Rogelio had never heard back in the Fright Zone. She seemed even proud of him, and then she started speaking his language again.

"I was gettin' tired of screening all of Broom's suitors. Finally, I can get down on my own time!"

"You're . . . you're glad that I destroyed your Broom?"

Razz did not respond, merely licking a finger to slide along Rogelio's scaly biceps. She flashed a smile and led him to her cottage. Rogelio suddenly liked where this night was going.

"O _hoo_!" the old woman chuckled hours later, as a new morning dawned on Etheria. "No one's been down that old dusty trail in centuries!"

The lizard dude sat up in their creaky bed. "Why don't you come back to the Horde with me? You could model dresses for Shadow Weaver." Razz had her exact body shape, and that way Rogelio could free Kyle and be with both of his lovers.

"Nah, these old bones can't handle the Industrial Revolution."

"I could bring the dresses to you!"

"Or, maybe you should bring those dresses to me . . . on your own body."

Rogelio saw himself wearing the dress—saw himself in Kyle's place. That place in his heart which Kyle once filled—he could fill that himself. With high-end women's fashion.

Rogelio saw himself against a moonlit sky, the winds of the skiff blowing through his crimson ball gown.

Razz stroked his scaly face one last time. "You will always know where to find me."


End file.
